The Suffering of Death

The precipice to all my anxiety is death. Not necessarily my own mortality, though no part of me wants to die, but the idea of death - the harshness that is the vanishing of life. The fact that others, who are nameless to me, will die all around me. And in that moment of pain and grief I keep living. Whether human or squirrel - the inevitability that all life turns to dirt causes me much sadness and pain.

I believe that at an even more elemental level it’s the suffering associated with death. The cancer that eats you from the inside out. The gun shot that rips a hole through a body that moments before was quite complete and functional. The fatal car crash that rips and tears limbs apart. The fire that melts the flesh and asphyxiates from the billowing smoke. The water that fills the lungs and the helplessness that resides in the eyes. The suffering associated with death.

The interesting thing is I am not necessarily afraid of theses things. Partially because I naively believe that horror’s like these will not actually happen to me and partially because I’ve never experienced what true suffering feels like. Its the knowledge that they happen to others every goddamn day that brings me to my knees.

I know I will die. I know that it may not be of a time or way of my choosing. I know in that moment I will breathe my last breath alone. I know it is all around me. Its in the food I eat and the clothes I wear. Its in the chair that I sit in as I type these words. I know these things. And still the idea of death is unbearable to me.

I do not deal with severe depression nor am I generally an unhappy person. I love life. My wife and my dog are my most coveted companions. I have a caring family. I have an incredibly strong community of friends. I love nature hikes and breathing fresh air. I can close my eyes and feel the breeze wash over my skin while listening to the songs of birds - and in those moments I know I am alive. I experience music at a very spiritual level (listening to the Hotelier’s “Goodness” on 180gram vinyl while I’m writing this very line) allowing almost all of my senses to be engulfed by the sound. All of these things bring me unspeakable joy - and yet there is always an element of despair in me knowing that others will never get to experience a microsecond of the life that I so randomly get to live everyday. And though I don’t believe in prayer - I find myself praying that I will get to continue such a journey with so much love and life. And while typing this last thought I know that it is my responsibility to live my life to the fullest never taking for granted my health and freedom. But how many living creatures in this very minute just ceased to exist? Fuck.

I blame god. If god exists, I blame it. The first 20 formative years of my life were steeped in american christian ideology and the last 15 years filled with actual experiences that have brought me here. I blame god. If god is creator and father of life. If god is fair and just. If god is all powerful. If god is love. If god gives a shit. Then this is not how life would end for so many. The idea of an afterlife is completely arbitrary in this conversation. The conflict lies within the idea that we were given life, told that it was precious and beautiful and then plagued with the inevitability of a tragic ending. A mutated new born with Zika. A five year old with leukemia. A confused or bullied teenager who doesn’t want to live. An unstable parent who takes the lives of their entire family. A worn torn country. An “Act of God”. An elderly person withering away in a nursing home drooling and shitting themselves after a sudden stroke. An exploded corpse of an animal on the side of the road. The inconvenience of neighborhood dogs and cats that are put to sleep and turned to ash. The suffering of death. I blame god.

The theological answers of “we are fallen creatures”, “we were born into sin”, this is mans doing (or better yet - Satan’s doing) not “God’s” , “God” is with you through your suffering, etc. None of these catch phrases bring any substantial answers or peace. So here is my challenge to you - how are we supposed to productively deal and process the reality of death other than - shit happens and it sucks? How do we continue to thrive and be grateful for what we are given when others are either given nothing or pain?